(Minghui.org) I began to practice Falun Dafa (also called Falun Gong) at the beginning of 1999. Thus, I was a fairly new practitioner when the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) launched its persecution of Falun Dafa in July 1999.
I would like to share my experiences of going to Beijing several times to safeguard Dafa after the persecution began.
The CCP launched its persecution of Falun Dafa practitioners on July 20, 1999. Upon hearing this, several practitioners and I bought airplane tickets to Beijing. After we boarded and before the plane's departure, several people came onto the plane, including a policeman. The policeman asked to see my ID. After I showed him, he politely left.
Suddenly, this thought appeared in my mind: “This is the best thing I’ve done in my life!” The plane took off right afterwards.
I learned later that they had been monitoring another practitioner whose name was similar to mine, and they wanted to see if I was that practitioner.
In Beijing, the propaganda slandering Falun Gong was everywhere. We were quite depressed and didn’t know what to do. For a few days, we walked aimlessly through the Beijing streets.
One day in the Qianmen area, a young couple smiled at us. We chatted and learned they were local practitioners living in Beijing, and they were looking for practitioners who’d come in from other areas so they could help them. We were so happy to meet them and grateful for this arrangement of Master Li’s [the founder of Falun Dafa]! We went to the young couple’s home. There were already a dozen practitioners there from different regions. We felt like a big family.
At midnight, the mother and brother, who did not practice Dafa, of the male host arrived. They cursed at us and urged us to leave. As practitioners, we understood that we needed to go out and do something, instead of waiting around. Early the next morning, we said goodbye to each other and headed to Tiananmen Square in small groups. We wanted to safeguard Dafa!
My group arrived at the Beijing Petition Office. Under the trees, there were many tables set up, as is usually done for a reception. Many practitioners from all over the country were at tables filling out registration forms. The busy scene almost looked like a job market. We went to a table and filled our registration forms. Around noon, we were escorted to an open field. At least several hundred Dafa practitioners were detained there. We were not allowed to talk, walk around, or even use the restroom. It was very hot. Some practitioners were taken away by officers from their regions’ Beijing offices. Meanwhile, new practitioners were continuously being brought in.
In the evening, an officer from my province’s Beijing office came. He took my group to their Beijing Office. The office director was angry at us, but he was not violent. Some officers were curious about Dafa and asked us for more details.
The following day, the General Manager and Office Director of my workplace flew to Beijing and took me back home. I was required to report to the local police station before going home.
In the summer of 2000, when I read this sentence in Zhuan Falun:
“If humans didn’t take action when cosmic changes occurred, such situations would therefore not come about in ordinary human society, and neither could they be called cosmic changes.” (Lecture Seven, Zhuan Falun)
I realized, as a particle of Dafa, that I should take action. So I decided to go to Beijing again.
Wearing simply a short-sleeved plaid shirt and a pair of jeans, I boarded an early morning flight to Beijing, with a small rucksack on my back. I visited a young practitioner couple in Beijing, whom I met during my last Beijing visit. I left my backpack and ID with them. Carrying only a paper bag, I set off for Tiananmen Square after lunch.
It was a bright sunny day. There were not many people at Tiananmen Square. I did not see any other practitioners there. By the white marble Jinshui bridge, I saw several foreign tourists. I put the paper bag on the ground, closed my eyes slightly, and started to do the second Falun Dafa exercise – holding the wheel.
Soon after, I felt someone pulling my arm. I opened my eyes and saw a young policeman in front of me. He asked me politely where I was from and where I worked. I said, “I can’t tell you.” [Note: due to the CCP’s policy of implication, Falun Dafa practitioners often do not reveal their names in order to protect family members, friends, and colleagues from repercussions by the authorities.] He asked me why I was there. I said I came to appeal for Falun Dafa. I told him that Falun Dafa’s Master taught practitioners to be good people, and the government was treating Dafa practitioners wrongly.
He then asked, “Do you want to be detained, or go home?” I said I wanted to go home. He said, “You are welcome to visit Beijing at some other time, but do not come for this [to appeal for Falun Dafa].” Then he told me to get in his police car.
The sky became overcast. The police car circled around Tiananmen Square. I was calm. My mind was empty and I did not think about being arrested. At that time I did not know that I should ask Master for help. But I believed that Master protected and helped me anyway. The police car stopped at a bus station, dropped me off, and left.
I took a bus to meet the young Beijing couple. As soon as I was on the bus, heavy rain poured down. About an hour later, when I got off the bus, the rain miraculously stopped. The sky seemed to have been washed clear and clean, and it felt like a breath fresh of air.
After my trips to Beijing to appeal for Dafa, I was often harassed by the local police at home and work. At the end of 2000, the security door of my apartment suddenly couldn’t be opened. I felt that the evil was about to attack. I quickly packed and headed to Beijing for the third time, along with two local fellow practitioners.
As Dafa practitioners who were on the authority’s monitoring list, we could not buy plane or train tickets to Beijing. So we took a long distance bus. We stopped in a small city and checked into a small motel. The next morning, we bought train tickets from that city to Tianjin (trains to Beijing had a more strict security check). At that time there was no electronic version of the Dafa books, so I carried several of Master’s lectures with me.
The three of us arrived in Tianjin with no problem. The older practitioner, who I called Auntie, stayed in Tianjin with her daughter. I and another practitioner, Ling (pseudonym), took a taxi to Beijing that night. The driver told us there were many policemen along the road to Beijing, stopping cars to check for Falun Dafa practitioners. Under Master’s protection, we safely arrived in Beijing.
A friend in Beijing, who was not a practitioner, lent us a furnished apartment in the Xiaoguan area. When Auntie joined us, somehow the owner of the apartment did not allow her to move in. So we rented a room in a separate house for Auntie. The room had no heater, and Auntie had to use an old style coal stove to keep warm. Winter in Beijing was cold and hazy. Many practitioners who went to Beijing to protect the Fa lived in poor conditions.
Ling and I stayed inside the apartment and spent most of our days studying the Fa. Although we went to Beijing to speak up for Dafa, the attachment of fear prevented us from taking action. Two weeks later, we felt that the heating in the apartment was insufficient. Ling and I went to a local mall and bought winter coats, chopped lamb, and carrots. Ling made a big pot of stew, and we enjoyed the warm meal.
The next day, not only did the heating in the apartment stop working, but the toilet was also broken. We realized it was a hint that we should no longer stay inside. At this time, Chen (pseudonym), a fellow practitioner, contacted us and told us to go to Tiananmen Square quickly, because some practitioners planned to put up a large banner over 300 feet long. I remembered it was December 29, 2000.
Ling and I put on the new winter coats. When we met Chen, we were told we would not be able to catch the huge banner display. Instead, Chen gave us a banner that was about six feet long, suitable for two people to hold.
I realized that the way things proceeded was related to my own thoughts. When the train was about to arrive in Tianjin, I thought: “The last two times I went to Beijing, I went to the appeals office and did the exercises at Tiananmen Square. What should I do this time? I wish I had a banner.” Just this one thought came up, and now I really had a banner. Its size, as well as the words on it, were perfect! Master knows everything and arranged everything for us!
We folded the banner and I put it in my pocket. Ling put one of her hands into my pocket. It looked like we held hands to keep our hands warm. In fact, each of us was holding a corner of the banner so we could quickly open it. What happened later proved that this was a good idea. The two of us walked through an underground passage where there were less police officers. We walked all the way to Tiananmen Square.
At about 12:40 p.m. in the afternoon, we arrived at Tiananmen Square. Right away we saw a row of burly men standing about three feet apart. All of them were over 5’9” tall, standing with their hands behind their backs. They looked fierce and murderous. We could tell something had just happened there.
On Tiananmen Square, the wind was blowing, the sky was overcast, and the atmosphere was brutal. The fellow practitioners who displayed the large banner that was over 300 feet long had long since disappeared. A few vendors selling small red flags were shaking from the cold and stomping their feet to keep warm. The square was relatively empty. There was no uniformed police in sight. There were less than 20 people around us. I couldn’t tell whether they were tourists, plainclothes police, or fellow practitioners. I saw that Auntie was there, as well as Chen.
I believe that Master gave me strength and courage. I had no fear and no distracting thoughts. I kept checking my watch. I felt that I couldn’t wait any longer. We must rush out before one o’clock and unfurl the banner.
A few minutes before 1:00 p.m., Ling and I quickly moved apart, each holding one end of the banner. We opened the banner and started to run. The scene around us suddenly became active; other practitioners appeared out of nowhere, some holding banners and some shouting, “Falun Dafa is good!” Uniformed police and plainclothes police also came out of nowhere, chasing after practitioners.
Ling couldn’t hold the banner while running, so we got separated. I was running as fast as possible, holding the banner with my right hand. I heard my own voice shouting, “Falun Dafa is good” over and over again, accompanied by the fluttering sound of the banner. I felt as if I was in another dimension. I ran for a long time without getting tired, until I was kicked down by a policeman. It was a very hard kick, enough to injure or even kill a person who was running very fast. Yet, I wasn’t hurt at all. I know that it was Master who protected me.
My memory went blurry after I fell. The next scene I recall is that I was in a police vehicle. Looking out the window, I was surprised to find that the scene had completely changed: The sun was shining brightly. Several police cars, a group of policemen, many practitioners, and a crowd of onlookers appeared from nowhere, and those burly men all seemed to have “evaporated.” Then I remembered that I had a stack of stickers with Dafa messages on them in my pocket. I had wanted to throw them to the crowd of onlookers, but the police saw it and stopped me.
Chen was taken into the police vehicle. He was a 20-year-old young man. His head was bleeding. Seeing that the police wanted to beat him, I shouted, “Stop beating people!”
There were several more practitioners inside the vehicle. I did not see Ling or Auntie among them.
We were taken to a police station near Tiananmen Square. More than 100 practitioners were detained in the backyard of the police station, where the red brick wall was about 12 feet high. We recited in unison:
“In life, nothing sought,In death, regretting naught;Washing away all wrong thought,Buddhahood, with less adversity, is wrought.” (“Nothing Kept”, Hong Yin)
We recited Master’s poem over and over again. The more we recited, the louder and more in unison our voices were, and the more determined we were.
I was moved by the unshakable righteous thoughts those practitioners displayed. It was indestructible! The sound of the Fa echoed inside the high walls of the police station. Our compassion melted the evil. The policemen listened silently; none of them dared to stop the practitioners.
Within only half a day, so many Dafa practitioners were brought to this location. For a period of time, countless practitioners went to Tiananmen Square to safeguard the Fa.
In the afternoon, the practitioners were forced onto a bus. It was extremely crowded. We continued to recite Hong Yin. The bus made multiple stops at various police stations. At each stop, a small group of practitioners were taken out. At the end of the ride, seven other practitioners and I were taken into a police station that was far away from Tiananmen. We were lucky to meet a group of policemen who had already met many practitioners before us, and thus already knew the truth about Falun Dafa, especially the director of the police station, who was very kind.
We were locked in a large empty room that looked like a long bunker-like detention center. We briefly discussed our situation and decided that we would not cooperate with the evil, and we would not disclose any personal information. Soon it was time for dinner, while no one had eaten lunch. The police brought in some meal boxes, but we didn’t touch them.
Later, a policeman who looked like a leader came in: “You Dafa disciples need to eat. You have to eat!” This was the director of the police station. He was kind and gentle, and he didn’t treat us as prisoners at all. So we ate. The meal boxes were full of fried noodles. We wanted to pay for the meals, but the police did not accept our money.
I was illegally interrogated twice. The first interrogation was by a rather cunning policeman. He asked my name, age, workplace, and household registration. I replied, “I can’t tell you. If I disclose my personal information, I will be taken back to my hometown and put into a forced labor camp!” Because I didn’t bring my ID with me, they couldn’t get the information they wanted.
In the second interrogation, an older policeman interrogated me, and I gave him the same answer. Several policemen in the room started to guess. Some guessed that I was 18 years old, and from my accent, I must be from a Beijing suburb. I was laughing inside. Eighteen? I have been working for many years! I did indeed reside for years in Beijing when I was young, so I had picked up the Beijing dialect. And I have many old friends and classmates in Beijing. Cultivators are not ordinary people, so it is typical that the police cannot accurately guess much about us.
The older policeman said: “If you don’t tell us, then I will see you in 8 or 10 years.” He meant I would be jailed for 8 or 10 years. I was not moved. At that time I did not have a high level understanding of the Fa. However, my heart was pure and firm: When I came to Beijing, I did not think about my going back or not. I just studied the Fa intensively the days before, which ensured my righteous thoughts.
Thinking back about it now, I had a strong attachment at that time. I thought the Fa-rectification was going to end soon. I thought I would not be able to complete my cultivation if I did not go out to safeguard the Fa.
That night the director was on the night shift, and he invited me for a chat. We talked a lot, almost about everything, including food and hobbies. He was frank and upright and had no intention to lure me into confessing. Of course, I also talked about Dafa. He took out a copy of Zhuan Falun from the drawer and said, “Look, I have a copy of your book here, and I took a glance at it.” I asked if I could have the book, but he refused to give it to me.
Sitting on the opposite side of the desk, the director lowered his voice: “In my opinion, Jiang Zemin’s policy toward Falun Gong can only make things worse... It’s not right.” I was happy to hear he had a positive attitude toward Dafa. He’d chosen a bright future for himself.
Most of the practitioners detained there were from the countryside, and were in their 50s and 60s. We did not talk much, since each spoke in their own dialect and we could not understand each other very well.
The guards did not forbid us from doing the exercises.
In the evening, an elderly practitioner showed illness symptoms, and she was released soon after. The next day, another practitioner showed illness symptoms and was also released. The director seemed willing to release practitioners as long as he could find a “reason” to do so.
During the time I was detained at that police station, the police treated the practitioners kindly. I did not hear them say anything bad about Dafa either. I believe the director, who knew that Dafa is good, played a role. It also seemed that the many practitioners, who had been detained here, had done a good job of clarifying the truth to the police.
Eventually, only a few practitioners remained. None of us had our IDs with us, nor had we disclosed our identities. At the time we were not aware of the danger of being taken for organ harvesting if we refused to disclose our identities. We were simply waiting there.
The director called us to his office. Several policemen were there. “Everywhere is full,” said the director. “There is nowhere to place you. You should leave, and go home as soon as possible.”
Thus, the remaining practitioners walked out the gate of the police station with dignity. We hurriedly said goodbye without exchanging any personal information. Now, in my memory, their appearance is blurry. My fellow practitioners, how are you all today? After being released that day, have you gone to Tiananmen again?
I returned to the Xiaoguan apartment. The lamb stew Ling made was still there, but Ling did not come back. I wept and ate the stew alone.
Later, I found a group of young practitioners who were living in a row of shabby rental houses near Tsinghua University. The houses had no heat, bathroom, or kitchen, and were less than 33 feet in length. The practitioners had been living there for a long time.
Chen did not return.
I counted my money. I set aside enough for my travel expenses, and gave the remaining 6,000 yuan to the young practitioners. After encouraging each other, I headed home.
Recalling my third trip to Beijing, it was full of danger. I was not a brave person at the time. Without Master’s strengthening and protection, a practitioner like me, full of karma and human attachments, would not have been able to make it through.
I am grateful to the kindhearted people who helped me during the brutal years. The best way to repay them is to clarify the truth to them and help them withdraw from the CCP and its affiliated youth organizations.
The general manager at work was a kind and elegant elderly gentleman with a high rank. He knew me well. When I went to Beijing to appeal for Dafa the first time, he received a call from Beijing, and the caller asked for the top leader of my workplace to go to Beijing in person to pick me up. He picked me up. During the journey and after returning, he never blamed me or asked me to give up my faith, nor did he give me a hard time at work. When the police kept harassing me, the officials at my workplace did not cooperate with the police.
Many years ago, I chatted with the general manager’s wife. I told her the truth about Dafa, and she quit the CCP. A few years ago, I finally succeeded in helping the general manager quit the CCP. With tears in my eyes, I thanked him for treating Dafa practitioners kindly. He also said from his heart: “It is wrong for the government to treat Falun Gong like this.”
When he saw the truth-clarification brochure I gave him, he exclaimed, “It’s exquisite!” He and his wife were of refined taste and often traveled abroad after retirement. Sometimes I visited them and invited them for dinner.
The deputy general manager at my workplace was my former superior. I did not often have contact with him after he was promoted. Now, he has long since retired. Two years ago I invited him and his wife to dinner so I could clarify the truth to them. Although he looked like a political cadre, I was surprised to discover that he believed in Buddhism. His wife said that he secretly protected many people during the various CCP political movements.
He said that when the police came to arrest me at work, they talked to him first. He told the police: “I know this kid very well. She’s not like what you described. You shouldn’t treat her like this!” I was touched. As an ordinary person, he dared to speak up for Dafa practitioners during the time when the evil was so rampant! For all those years, he never mentioned it to me or to anyone else. He and his wife had a high awareness of the truth about Dafa, and there was no obstacle for them to agree to withdraw from the CCP.
When I gave them a Dafa truth-clarifying amulet, his wife was so happy, as if she had just obtained a treasure. I was moved, and saw more clearly that everyone in the world is waiting for the truth. I almost missed such a precious person because of my laziness. How many lives are waiting for Dafa disciples to save them?
These two couples: the general manager, the deputy general manager, and their wives have reached advanced ages now. Yet they are considered healthy among their peers. Their lives are prosperous, their children are successful, and their families are happy. They are examples of being blessed for treating Dafa practitoners well.
The friend who lent me his apartment in Xiaoguan is a division chief in Beijing. He has already withdrawn from the CCP. Because of the pandemic, my plan to clarify the truth thoroughly to him and his wife was postponed. I will look for another opportunity. In fact, I only met them two or three times. They are not old friends of mine, but we hit it off somehow. That year, I only made a phone call, and he offered to give me a place to stay when I was in Beijing. Of course, I knew it was Master’s arrangement.
As for the director of the police station where I was detained, I met him once again in Beijing about ten years ago. This time I revealed my identity to him. We became friends, and we exchanged mobile phone numbers. Unfortunately I accidentally lost his phone number. Six years ago, I thought of him again, and I felt I must save him, especially because he had a good relationship with Dafa practitioners. After some effort I found him. I sent him New Year gifts every year (except during the pandemic).
One day, I called him using an anonymous phone card. I advised him to quit the CCP, and he readily agreed. I was so relieved that I choked back my tears and told him, “On behalf of those Falun Dafa practitioners you protected, I thank you! Do you know that many Falun Dafa practitioners who didn’t disclose their personal identities disappeared, and many were sent for organ harvesting while still alive?” He was silent; of course he knew. I said, “You have done such good things!” He asked me not to send him any more gifts, and I said that I represented those Dafa practitioners.
He was indeed blessed for treating Dafa practitioners kindly. He was promoted, and was later transferred from the police to another government department, where he was not as busy and was very satisfied. Even now, we continue to keep in touch during the holidays.
Looking back at these unforgettable experiences of going to Beijing to appeal for Dafa, I have no regrets. When Falun Dafa and our great Master were being slandered, countless Dafa disciples used their blood and their lives to fulfill the sacred vows they signed with Master before coming to this world.
I would like to use this article to pay tribute to those fellow practitioners who lost their freedom or even their lives during the persecution.